


Tristan and Isolde

by writeranthea



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pet Names, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: Munich, June 1865. Courtiers were talking and given how inconsistent rumors were on principle, they reached fromHis Majesty has fallen ill with the poxandHis Majesty’s doctor has confirmed it is tuberculosisto some courtiers even claiming that they themselves had seen the queen mother leaving His Majesty’s rooms in tears, crying about her son’s fate. No matter which one of the rumors Richard picked, none managed to easy his worry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwanFloatieKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/gifts).

> A/N: I posted this story on AO3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here I am, finally managing to write something with Ludwig/Richard after... good nine months of procrastinating xD I'm trying to grow warm around them, to figure out how to write them etc. so please excuse me if they're not "fully in character" yet.
> 
> I split it into two parts so it's easier to read :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Richard Wagner, fifty-two years of age, had been so fully of excitement when he had left the opera hall, which had still been buzzing with the overwhelming amount of applause the long awaited premiere of “Tristan und Isolde” had teared from the elated crowd. It had lasted for minutes and it would have been a lie if the famous composer would have said that he had not downright engorged himself in it, he had enjoyed it, had drawn the appreciation he had needed from it but if he would have been honest with himself, he would have confessed that the only praise he had been eager to get had been the one of the young man sitting on a throne-like chair high above the crowd, surrounded by court officials and spellbound by the happening on the stage below him. _Ludwig, his beloved Ludwig_. Richard had been ashamed of himself, for he had, at first, seen the young man on the Bavarian throne as nothing but his patron, had, when he had been allowed into Ludwig’s bed for the first time, seen nothing but gulden with which he could pay off his dept in him. He had not known it then, and still did not know how he had ended up having lost his heart to him in the same way he was certain Ludwig had given him his. _Tristan and Isolde, Tannhäuser and Elisabeth, Lohengrin and Elsa. Richard and Ludwig._ It had frightened him sometimes, having to admit that he was at the mercy of Ludwig even more than the younger man was at the mercy of his art, his music, and even the love he was giving him. He had long lost count of the number of nights he had spend by himself, in the moonlit darkness of his bedroom, with only his hand and the mental images of Ludwig writhing and moaning all so softly underneath him, the younger’s unbelievably long and lean legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper... Richard was lost in him, and it was one of the most frightening things he ever had to admit. Especially to himself. So as he had made his way to the rooms that lay underneath the stage, his head had been, contrary to how it had been after his prior premiers, filled with Ludwig as much as with pride about his own success.

His breath had hitched, barely noticeable so, as he had opened the door of the room that had been designated for him and had found Ludwig sitting in one of the armchairs in the far back of the room. “Ludwig.” “It was so beautiful,” the younger man had answered in the same whispering tone, slowly standing up and crossing the room to reach Richard’s side, who had been so _enthralled_ by the mere presence of the young man that he had not noticed himself holding the door open. He had let go of it, however, once Ludwig had came to stand in front of him. It had fallen close with a loud sound that had disturbed the otherwise perfect silence. “So beautiful,” the younger and yet taller man had repeated, taking Richard’s right hand and placing it on his chest, on the spot where the older had felt his heart beating even through the layers of clothing Ludwig was wearing. “My Tristan.” Despite the obvious height difference between them it had been Richard who had initated their kiss, who had cupped his free hand against Ludwig’s cheek and had pulled him down into a kiss. The younger had gasped against Richard’s lips - they had not seen each other in over a year, a year that Richard had managed to go through solely with the aid of their letters and the memories of their first and, to that date, only night together. “How I have missed you, Ludwig, my Isolde,” he had whispered into the kiss, taking his hand away from Ludwig’s chest to be able to bury it in the younger’s soft, wild hair. By the grace of God, he had no words to express his love in that moment. “Oh Richard, you know that I have missed you even more.” Instead of answering with words that would not have done his thoughts and feelings justice Richard had used the hold he had in Ludwig’s hair to guide it down onto his shoulder, closing his arms around him once the younger’s head had lowered. For how long they had stand embraced like that, in silence that had only been interrupted by the sound of the orchestra players passing through the corridor, neither had known and as it seemed, neither had truly cared. It had only been when Richard had felt a suspicious wetness soaking the fabric of his blouse that he had guided Ludwig’s head back so that his face had came into sight - and his breath had, once more, caught in his throat when he had spotted the tears that had left their shiny marks on the twenty-year-old’s cheeks. “Ludwig...” “Do not force me through such a long time of solitude again.” Richard had sensed that Ludwig had wanted his words to be laced with a very much kingly and ordering tone, but his voice had betrayed him by cracking in mid-sentence, and albeit Ludwig’s really shoud not have, they had caused a shiver of the best kind to run up the older man’s spine. _Solitude_. While Ludwig had proclaimed that he would not allow another man into his bed as long as he had the certainty that Richard wanted him - and by God, he wanted him, it had been an entirely different thing to actually hear it. “I would not dare to dream of it,” Richard had answered, almost promising, and when he had raised onto the tip of his toes to kiss a spot low on Ludwig’s neck, the younger’s knees had visibly trembled.

“Richard -” “One more day without you and I would have gone crazy.” There had been a grow in his voice by then, one that he had not intended to be there but one that had turned Ludwig’s knees weak as much as the kiss to his neck had and once Richard had realized that his mere words still had that effect on him, he had known that he would not be leaving the room without having claimed his lover anew. Right there, in the room under the stage that had meant so much to the both of them he had been, from one second to another, hit with another, overwhelming wave of lust. He had tightened the hold on Ludwig’s hair, earning him a sound that could have been a moan as much as it could have been a gasp, but what ever it had been, it had gone straight to Richard’s nethers, causing the strain in his trousers to become no longer ignoreable. One of the younger man’s hands had came to rest in the crook of his arm, searching for hold, and when Richard closed his fingers around Ludwig’s cock, which had since came to life in his trousers as well, at the same time that he had attacked his neck again, Ludwig moaned even louder. The orchestra had been sojourning in the room next to the one that they had been in, and Richard had doubted that the walls were as thick as the ones of Ludwig’s bedchamber, but God had known that even if they would have been heard he would have been the last to care. He had continued to lick, suck and nibble at his lover’s pale neck, and Ludwig had continued to whimper, moan and gasp as they had stumbled through the room with Richard’s blind goal of reaching the armchair. “I have wanted to wait until we would be somewhere more secluded,” the older man breathed, arousal thick in his voice, “since I have planned to fuck you so hard that,” he had discarded the spot that he had finished sucking a bruise on in order to attack another, “the only thing you would will be able to say is my name.” He had felt Ludwig’s fingers moving through the short hair on the back of his head, a baritone moan building up in his throat as Richard had continued to speak, “And believe me when I say that I will not stray from my plan.” “Richard, please - _oh!_” Ludwig had thrown his head back when the Richard had let go of his hair in order to work his fly open, roughly tugging his breeches and underwear down just enough for his throbbing cock to be freed from its containment. “I am all ears, my love. What is it that you want me to do?” They had since reached the destined armchair and while Richard slowly moved his hand over the length of the younger man’s cock, Ludwig did not hesitate before he hooked his fingers underneath the waitsband of his lower garnments and pulled them down until they hunched around his knees, so very clearly expressing his eager and willingness that words had been unnecessary. Richard, however, had still wanted to hear them, had needed to hear tham and it was in his nature to always strive after what he wanted. He had made an appreciating hum as Ludwig had looked down at him with wide, glistering eyes, and had slipped the hand that had not been on his lover’s cock underneath Ludwig’s waistcoat and blouse to stroke the firm muscles of his stomach. “I am waiting, Ludwig.” The younger had whined as he had hid his face in the crook of Richard’s neck. It was always too endearing to see the king of Bavaria blushing that easily.

Richard had wanted to touch more of his skin, but even he had known that he could not possibly undress Ludwig here, no matter how much he would have liked to do it. He had let go of the younger man’s cock to be able to cup his face instead. My God, what a breathtaking sight he had been. Ludwig’s eyes had been filled with tears, his face had been blushed into a proper shade of pink and his bottom lip had already been swollen where he had bit onto it. “Come, my Isolde, ask me,” Richard had drawled out, gently running his thumb over his lover’s swollen lip. “I need... to feel you inside me, Tristan.” He had raised onto the tip of his toes and Ludwig had leaned down, thus enabling for their lips to meet and for Richard’s tongue to breech past Ludwig’s lips while his hands shamelessly groped at the perfectly shaped backside of his lover. Muscular and yet laced with a layer of fat, always bouncing into his touch, it had been worthy of a dozen sonetts about it. “Bend over the back of the armchair,” he had spoken against Ludwig’s lips, squeezing a backside cheek to make his intend cleare if it, in a miraculous way, should have went over the younger’s had. It, of course, had not, and Richard had taken a step back as the king of Bavaria had scrambled to get into position. The back of the armchair had been at the perfect height, allowing the exceptionally tall man to be bend a the waist while he braced himself on the seat of the chair. Richard had been panting by then, and he had opened the first few buttons of his blouse simply because he had feared that the heat would become too much as he had stepped behind Ludwig, who had twisted his head around to be able to look at him. No, Richard had never expected to come into such relations with the younger man but by God, he would not change it for the world. Ludwig had managed to reach a part of him that no one had ever been able to reach before, not Minna and certainly not the countless other women, and the few men, he had shared a bed with in the past. Richard, again, made a humming sound of appreciation as he did no more than ghost the tips of his fingers over the younger man’s backside, his touch enough to leave behind ghostbumps on the soft, unmarked flesh. “I will not be able to prepare you properly -” “It does not matter,” the younger had cut him of with a moan, pushing his hips back. “Take me now, my Tristan.” With an ounce of doubt still present in his mind Richard opened the fly of his trousers and had pulled his cock out, stroking it once, twice, before he had stepped closer, had spread Ludwig’s cheeks apart and had leaned down to circle his tongue around the tight, puckered muscle. Ludwig’s high-pitched and strangled moan had easily outdone some of his own overtures, it was heavenly. He had used as much spit as he could, as it would be the only lubricant he could have provided the younger with and since he had been generous with the oil they had used the first time, he had not wanted to hurt him more than necessary. Richard had let his tongue done its task of licking Ludwig open until he was slick enough for two fingers to be pushed into of him.

Ludwig had always been so responsive to his touches, had desired them whether it had been only the most simple touch of Richard’s fingers on the back of his hand, in his hair and on his face or when they, like they had been doing it then, entering him as a pair. His breath had hitched and his spine had rounded - it had hurt, a flash of stinging pain had shot trough his body as Richard pushed his fingers in as far as possible. Considering that he had been twenty years of age, Ludwig had not yet been able to gather as much experience as he may have liked to, and with Paul, it had always been him that had taken his friend. With Richard, however, he had not wanted to dream about it being differently than what had quickly formed out, that it had been _him_ who had allowed himself to be at the composer’s mercy, not the other way around as many were most likely suspecting it. The year without him could have only been described as his personal hell, the correspondance between them had been going as strong as it only could have gone and while Ludwig had managed to go through his days rather well, as they had been filled with his royal duties, it had been the nights that he had needed to force himself through. He had not wanted to know how many times the guards that had been positioned at each side of his bedroom’s door had heard his broken moans when he had tried to find _that_ spot inside of him. Yes, his fingers were longer, but Richard’s were so much more skilled. What they could bring into life had been fascinating, they had made him feel as if he had been ascending into heaven with the music they wrote and the way they touched him. Ludwig had let out a long, whiny moan when Richard had finally rubed the sweet spot inside of him, and he had folded his arms on the seat of the chair to be able to rest his forehead onto them. “Ri-ichard...” The position he had been in then had not allowed him to look at Richard and thus Ludwig had not seen how much the older man’s eyes had been fixed onto him, taking in the way that his hips had pushed back, eager and willing to take more than the fingers which were scissoring him loose. Richard had laid his free hand into the small of Ludwig’s back, offering purchase and comfort at the same time as he had increased the force his fingers had been working with. “You are so tight for me,” he had praised, moaning softly when Ludwig had clenched around his fingers. “Tell me, Ludwig, have you truly waited for me? For a year?” The younger man’s hips had twitched when Richard had pressed down onto his prostate again, his legs trembling. “I have,” came a whispered answer, spoken with a hitching voice, “I have, oh Richard - Tristan, please.” He had bend down to kiss the small of Ludwig’s back, he much rather would have liked to kiss him properly but their positions as well as their different heights did not allow for it, as he pulled his fingers out. Richard had cringed inwardly when he had spit into his palm and had coated his attention-seeking erection with his own salvia; it could have been a scandal, him, the famous composer Richard Wagner, was about to fuck Ludwig, the king of Bavaria, with nothing but spit for lube. He had continued to tug at his cock as he had scooted forwards, in between Ludwig’s parted legs. The trousers that had hunched around the younger man’s ankle had been an obstacle but neither had considered to stop to take them off. They would manage.

With all the heat that had collected in the pit of his stomach and had urged him to take him hard and fast, to claim him anew, Richard had still haltered when he had felt the tremble that had gone trough Ludwig’s body when he spread his lover’s cheeks apart had aligned the head of his cock with Ludwigs’s loosened entrance. He had slid both of his hands under the unwelcomed clothes that the younger was still wearing to run then over his back, up and down, to reassure him. “There is no need for you to worry, Isolde,” he had whispered, longing to be able to kiss him. “Allow me to take care of you...” Richard had never been the one to ask, he had always taken what he had wanted, but with Ludwig, this sweet, gentle boy that had been forced to ascend the throne too soon, he rather would have accepted a decade in purgatory than to hurt him by recklessness. He had only began to move after Ludwig had nodded in consent, first pushing the head of his cock past the yet tight ring of muscle and allowing the other to grow used to the feeling of penetration before he entered him with slow inch after inch until his pelvis had been pressed smoothly against Ludwig’s upturned backside. The heat that had enclosed him had been as overwhelming as he had imagined it to be, the satin-like feeling of Ludwig around him enough to throw him off his feet, figuratively speaking, for a good few moments. Richard had held onto Ludwig’s hips for purchase, having feared that otherwise would not have been able to stay upright, as the king of Bavaria had mewled, whined and _moaned_ underneath him. “Move - for God’s sake, Richard, move!” Ludwig had snapped, his needy complaint ending with a whine that had sounded just as needy, and the older man had laughed and had reached out with one hand to mess up Ludwig’s already disheveled hair even more. “Your wish is my command, Isolde,” Richard had purred, had run his hand slowly over Ludwig’s back as he had slowly pulled out until only the tip of his member had remained inside of his lover, and had returned his hand to Ludwig’s waist when he had snapped his hips forwards, pushing the length of his back up into the satin warmth. The younger man’s moan had rippled through the room and by God, if anyone had been to come in and witness, Richard would not have cared. It simply had been too good of a sight to see Ludwig’s back arched as it had been then, to see his slicked-up cock disappearing inside of him and albeit it certainly had not been the lovemaking that Richard had wished for their reunion, he had not been disappointed. There would be times when he would make sweet love to him, when he would take as long as he wished to explore Ludwig’s body with his tongue as much as with his fingers, when he would tease and eventually release him - but the conductor room had really not been the place for making proper love. Richard had taken him hard and fast, almost so as if he had needed to prove a point, as if he had needed to _claim_ him all over again, and Ludwig, oh Ludwig had complied. He had pushed his hips back to meet Richard’s thrusts, causing the armchair to scrape over the wooden floor from the force that Richard had fucked with him with.

A few strands of hair had fallen into Richard’s face as the composer had focused on the task of fucking Ludwig as much as he would have concentrated his mind on finishing a duet, taking in nothing but the sight of his cock pushing into him and Ludwig’s muffled moans. The younger had clasped both of his hands over his mouth, he had been nowhere as confident about eventually getting caught as Richard had been; the whimpers, moans and gasps that he had tried to mute surely would have outdone the sound of skin hitting skin. Richard’s breathing had gotten more and more cut off and the movements of his hips had grown more erratic the further the tension in his nethers had intensified, he had been close and one brush against Ludwig’s cock, its head slick with precum, had told him that his lover had been just as far gone. Upon having realized that Richard had stopped, his pelvis firmly pressed against Ludwig’s backside, and had eased the strong hold he had on his hips to gently caress the younger man’s sides instead, a smile growing on his face at the shaky intake of breath that could have been heard. He had circled his hips without pulling out, thus brushing his firm member fully against Ludwig’s prostate, and had chuckled when Ludwig’s breath hitched. “You are incredible, my beloved Isolde...” Incredible had been an understatement if Richard had ever made one: he could not have imagined a more _divine_ thing than Ludwig in that moment. The hand had still been firmly planted over his mouth and the side of his face, which Richard had been able to see, had been blushed into a dark pink. He had not needed to see it in order to know that the blush had spread out over Ludwig’s chest, too. _Beautiful, divine, perfect. His._ “Always so tight and eager for your Tristan.” His words had the wished effect, Ludwig had clenched around him as his hips had bucked and another, almost sobbed moan had escaped him despite his best efforts to muffle it. “So goddamn beautiful,” Richard had continued to mutter under his breath when he had resumed to fuck him with a much slower but just as steady rhythm as before, planning to dive rather than fall over the peak of his approaching orgasm. A few more thrusts into the silken warmth, a few more clenches of Ludwig’s ring of muscles around his cock and a whimper of his name had eventually been enough for the tension in his nethers to intensify, so much it had very well hurt, before disappearing a second later. Richard had came with a groan and had just barely managed to keep himself on his very unsteady legs by holding onto Ludwig’s hips hard enough for his fingers to surely leave bruises behind, continuing to erratically slide in and out of him until he heard the choked-up gasp that had accompanied the younger man’s orgasm. He had clinged onto Ludwig’s waist until he could have trusted his legs again, moaning as he had pulled his softening cock out of his lover and had tucked it back into his trousers without bothering to wipe himself clean. “Ludwig.”

The young king of Bavaria yet had to move from his position of being bend over the armchair and Richard had kept a hand on his back as he had moved around said armchair and had crouched down to take Ludwig’s face into his hand. My God, how breathtakingly beautiful he had been. His eyes heavy-lidded and glistering with tears as well as the haze of his orgasm, his cheeks almost glowing hot from the blush that had stood on them; Richard had failed to suppress the moan that had escaped his throat when Ludwig’s tongue had darted out to lick over his sinfully plush, curved lips and he had leaned forward to capture them, stroking one hand through the younger’s hair while his other had held his chin. There would not have been a use in denying that he had loved him, and he had no doubt that Ludwig’s feelings for him had been just as strong and honest. _His Isolde_. Richard had kissed him for a while, had played a gentle game with Ludwig’s tongue before had stood again, much to Ludwig’s distaste. He had laughed and shook his head - he never felt as young as when he had been with him, ruffling through Ludwig’s hair. “Up you go, love. Or are you comfortable in that position?” Richard had hooked a hand underneath the younger man’s arm to motion for him to stand and Ludwig had obeyed, albeit using the armrest of the chair as leverage to push himself back onto his feet. The composer had not even tried to hide the grin that had grown on his face, Ludwig had looked positively fucked out of his senses and if he had not already been adorable before, he had been so as he had almost swayed. “Richard...” “I believe that I am allowed to praise myself, hm? What do you say?” The grin had not faded from his face when Ludwig had lowered his head onto his shoulder with a groan of “Shut up” while his arms had wrapped themselves around Richard’s middle, and he had hasted a kiss against his lover’s sweaty temple. “You should dress yourself before your valet will see you like this.” Ludwig had merely snorted, “It would not be the first time.” Richard had tried to ignore the stab of jealousy in his chest at his lover’s comment and he had kissed his temple yet again before he had pushed him away from him, gently but ordering. “Come, love. I will help you.” Ludwig had stood heavily leaned against the armchair, bracing himself on the backrest he had been bend over while Richard had indeed helped him pull his breeches and undergarnments back up. “So, all dressed Your Majesty.” Ludwig’s attire had been ruined, crumpled and dirtied with a few tale-telling wet spots, but if one would have judged by the look of his face he had not seemed to care at all. “Isolde, my beloved,” Richard had muttered as he had taken one of Ludwig’s hand and had kissed its back prior to locking their fingers, drinking in the sight of his lover’s blush deepening once more. He had known that Ludwig had loved not only him, but his music as well and thus must have felt twice as loved when he would show his appreciation towards him through both. “Richard - Tristan, I missed you so much.” Richard had seen the younger swallow hard as he had looked up into Ludwig’s almost childlike face - _my God, he was so young_ \- to stroke his cheek with the back of his fingers. “I have missed you even more.” “Will you... stay with me?” He had frowned as he had lowered his hand again, “You have already granted me stay in the city, Ludwig.”

“It... is not what I meant.” Richard had cocked an eyebrow, seeing the usually so souvereign monarch reduced to a stalling young man had been endearing in the uttermost enjoyable way and he had squeezed Ludwig’s hand, which had laid so warm in his. The younger had drawn in a deep breath, “I... have wanted to ask whether or not you would like to stay in my palace instead.” _Closer to me._ It had gone unsaid, but Richard had understood it anyway. His heart had summersaulted as Ludwig had averted his gaze to the floor as if he had been ashamed of himself for having asked in the first place, and Richard had hurried raise onto the top of his toes to kiss him again. “It would be a dream of mine, my beloved Isolde,” he had whispered against his lips, swallowing the whimper with which Ludwig had answered. “Is it a yes?” “Of course it is,” Richard had said with a laugh, shaking his head at Ludwig’s uncertainty. “I will stay with you, my love.” Ludwig had appeared to be vulnerable in a way that he had not been after the first time that Richard had slept with him, his eyes had been wide wide and their brown had been unusually deep and the composer had mourned after the fact that they had not been in the royal chamber as he had planned on them being. “You will stay?” Richard had not laughed as he had looked down to see how Ludwig’s hand had clinged onto his. “I will,” he had repeated, his voice having dropped to one just a bit louder than a whisper. “Do not worry, my Isolde, I shall never you leave you.” It had not been a side of Ludwig that Richard had came in touch with in person until then, the one that had always asking for reassurance in the letter Ludwig had send him. “_Will you seek the warmth of my bed again?” “Will you allow me to fill the empty side of your bed?” “Tell me, and swear it God’s name, are your feelings towards me real?”_ He had often thought about how Ludwig had truly been nothing but a boy on the Bavarian throne, a boy that he had lost his heart to. “Ludwig, look at me.” The younger had obeyed, had lifted his tear-filled gaze from where it had dropped to the floor and Richard could not have known how wrong he had been to title them as remants of the orgasm that had ripped through Ludwig mere minutes ago. “I am here now, am I not? Stop worrying about something so groundless.” Richard had not wanted his voice to carry a bite, though had finished his sentence with a snap before he had even realized it, and when Ludwig had flinched, he had felt immediate remorse. The naturally stern creases of his face had softened even more as he had taken each of Ludwig’s wrists into his hands to kiss their sensitive insides, “I apologize for raising my voice, my love. I merely want you to know that my words speak of nothing but the truth in regards to you.” “Tristan...” He had let go of Ludwig’s wrists when the younger had moved to pull them free, and had allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace. “I love you so much.” “And I love you, my Isolde,” Richard had stroked Ludwig’s hair as well as his back, and the two men had stayed that close until a knock at the door had destroyed the moment between them. “Your Majesty?” Ludwig had straightened his spine within a second and had taken taken a step away from Richard, tugging at the bow tie around his neck as if it had been the only disheveled aspect about him. “Enter.” The first valet of the king of Bavaria, a man closer to Richard’s age than Ludwig’s, had entered and with him a pair of grim-looking guards. 

Judging by the way the valet had been eyeing Richard, one could have believed that the composer had been the prime suspect in a crime that had been comitted to harm Ludwig. “Your carriage would be ready for you, Your Majesty.” Ludwig had nodded sharply, having gone back to being the king of Bavaria within a second and Richard... yes, Richard had felt strangely distant from him. “You may go, I will be there shortly.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” the valet had answered with a dutiful bow of his head, and while he had looked at his king as Ludwig had spoken, his burning gaze had gone back to Richard when he had turned on his heels to strode back out of the room, the two guards following shortly behind him. “I see,” Richard had stated, closing the top buttons of his blouse that he had opened during their act as he had closed in on Ludwig with slow steps, “that my reputation yet has to improve.” He had reached out to take one of Ludwig’s hand, had squeezed it and kissed its back. “When will I see you again?” Ludwig’s face had gained yet again a faint blush when Richard had corrected the position of his bow tie with his free hand, “There are... certain things I wish to do with you, Isolde.” “Richard!” The younger mad had been so adorable as he had tried to keep the masquerade of superiority upright while his cheeks had heated up and he had refused to meet Richard’s gaze; it had simply been too endearing to have the king of Bavaria blushing in front of him. He had pulled him close against him, succeeding in doing so only because Ludwig had complied, to wrap one arm around his waist. “Give me a kiss before I am forced to let you go again, _Your Majesty_.” “Please do not call me that,” the younger man had whispered. “Tristan, do not call me that...” Richard had let go of the hand he had been holding to cup Ludwig’s cheeks, stroking the soft, clean-shaven skin. My God, how much he loved him. “Tell me then, my beloved Isolde: when will you allow your Tristan to see you again?” Ludwig had leaned his cheek into Richard’s palm, “Tonight? I will send my men to come and they will pick you up from Brienner Straße - oh Tristan, please join me in bed tonight. I have been so alone without you.” The young king’s eyes had been wide and silently pleading and Richard had laughed as he had raised to nuzzle his face into the side of Ludwig’s neck, earning a soft gasp. “You must not ask. I have not began to unpack my things so it will not be any bother for Tristan to come to his Isolde’s aid.” “Oh thank you.” The older man had smiled when he had felt his lover hasting a kiss into his hair before they had parted, their eyes and hands finding each other again as Ludwig had allowed himself to be lead towards the door. “As much as I would like to have your presence for me alone, you are needed somewhere else.” Ludwig’s plush lips had actually turned into a pout to which Richard had answered with a resounding laugh, putting his hand into the small of his lover’s back, “Behave.” A ridiculous thing it had been to say, really, considering that Ludwig had not needed to listen to anyone but his own wishes and desires. “Otherwise I might have to punish instead of reward my Isolde tonight.” The younger man had ducked his head, and Richard had been relieved to see a smile on his boyish face again, “Tonight?” “Tonight.” He had squeezed Ludwig’s hand once more before he had reached around him to open the door, “Your Majesty.” There had been voices nearby, whether they had been those of Ludwig’s men, or the orchestra players, Richard had not known; he had stayed on the swell of the opened door and had watched Ludwig go until the younger had disappeared around a corner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the tags - don't read this chapter if anything stated above might trigger you.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Their reunion in the conductor’s room of the opera had been a week ago. Almost seven entire days had passed since Richard had loaded his belongings onto the royal carriage that Ludwig had send to the house in the city which he had been destined to stay in before his lover had offered him housing in the palace - and it had also been a _week_, almost an entire week, since Richard had last spoken to him, or had even see him. The evening of the premiere, when he had gotten off the carriage in the courtyard of the royal palace and had been lead to the room that had been selected for him to live in by Ludwig’s very distrustful looking first valet, Richard had not seen him. He had almost teared himself apart when he had restlessly walked back and forth at the window front of the rather spacious rooms Ludwig had provided him with, wondering when he would be notified that His Majesty the king of Bavaria had requested his presence, and Richard had, the later the hour had gotten, grown more and more disappointed. His lover had seemed so eager to be with him when they had parted ways at the opera - maybe something had gotten in between? Yes, that had been a very likely possibility. An important matter of state, something that Ludwig never would have been to postpone, not even for him. Richard had written him a letter that night, after he had taken a seat at the small writing table that the room had been equipped with, in which he had assured the younger man, his beloved Ludwig, his Isolde, of his feelings for him and that he had not been mad. The latter had been a white lie, but it would not have been able to blame Ludwig for something that he could not have changed if his silent cancellation of their arrangement truly would have turned out to have been caused by an unexpected duty of his crown, and Richard had gone to bed after he had passed the letter on to a chambermaid, who herself had promised thats he would make sure its deliverance would be immediate. When the composer had woken up the next morning, however, the letterbox had been mournfully empty, and it had not only been disappointment and anger that had dominated the world of Richard’s feelings, but also worry. What if something had happened? _Oh please_, a small voice in the back of his mind had snapped at him, _if he would have had an accident on the way, or if he would have died during the night it would have been public news_. The voice had not succeeded to cease his worry, as there could have been half a dozen other things that Richard could have imagined having happened to Ludwig, none of which had been as gravely as an untimely death, but reason for worry nonetheless. _What if he had suddenly fallen ill, so ill that his doctor had advised him to stay in private? What if he had been so sick that he... could not notify Richard?_ He had eventually managed to bring his first day at court behind him by engaging in a short visit to the salon before retreating back behind the writing desk and working, halfheartedly but working still, at his newest musical piece.

Hours had gone by in which the room, which, much to his enjoyment, had offered him a pleasant view onto the gardens, had been filled with nothing but the sound of the quill moving over paper. Richard had only needed to do so much as _think_ about Ludwig for the notes to downright pour out of his love-filled heart, into his hand and onto the paper in front of him. My God, how much he had loved him. He had not been able to say what it had been that had caused him to look for more in the Bavarian king than a patron, whether it had been the way Ludwig had smiled at him, so bright-eyes and with an almost childlike happiness, or the way his eyes had glistered every time that he had listened to Richard’s music. To ever find someone that would love him for who he was as much as for his music had not been something that Richard had dreamed of, and he certainly had not believed to find it in the young man who had been all so willing to provide him with the money he needed to pay of his shameful debt. There had not been a single thing that he had not loved and thought to be utterly endearing, the small sounds that Ludwig would make when he would be on top and inside of him, my God, the sounds he would make! Richard had continued to write down note after note despite the faint shade of red that had been rising into his bearded cheeks, believing himself to hear not only the imaginary notes but Ludwig’s broken whimpers of please, moans of his name and gasps of arousal in his ears as well. He had drummed the fingers of his free hand onto the top of the table, had tried to force himself to focus on the music that had been forming in his chest but had failed miserably when the notes had been overdone by the sheer love and lost which had been dwelling in his heart as well, and it had been with a resigned groan that the composer had laid down his quill to close his eyes, lean back in his chair and give in to his feelings. If it would have been nothing more than his feelings, he probably would have been able to get back to writing after a few moments of lingering, but his situation had grown a lot more difficult when the love, which had been running through his veins like liquid fire, had been joined by images in front of Richard’s eyes, imagies that had caused the heat to collect in the pit of his stomach. _Ludwig between his thighs, on his knees, moving his head up and down with a precise skilfulness while his incredibly deep, brown eyes had been fixed on him, and on him alon_e and by God, Richard had been sure that he had felt the softness of his hair as much as of his mouth in that moment. Ludwig begging him to be rough with him, the sound of him whimpering and moaning around his cock - no. He had shaken his head and had slapped his cheek as he had forced himself to open his eyes and sit up straighter in his chair, scolding himself for being worse than a youth with their first crush, but he had not even gotten to pick his quill back up before he had noticed that the trobbing his nethers had not only been a fabric of his imagination. No, the sheer memory of Ludwig on his knees from over a year ago had been enough to have called his manhood to life. Richard had casted a nervous look around him, so as if he had suspected of being watched, before he, once more, had leaned back into the chair and had, very well knowing that it would not just... disappear on its own, popped the buttons of his fly open.

A low-throated moan had escaped him when he had reached inside his breeches and had wrapped his hand around his cock, pulling it free. If he had been embarassed by the prospect of masturbating in broad to memories of the king of Bavaria sucking him off? Of course he had been, but there had been no way on God’s good earth that he would have been able to suppress the need of release. He still had not gotten a word from him. Leaning his head back into his neck and allowing his inner eye to do the looking for him, Richard had moved his right hand over the length of his erection to get it into a full stand, his breath hitching as his hips had twitched out of instinct and need. _Ludwig, his beautiful and beloved Ludwig writhing underneath him while his cock had been buried deep inside of him, his hand on Ludwig’s throat, applying just enough pressure to provide the whimpering and moaning young man with even more pleasure. Given the differences in their heights it had not been possible for Richard to fuck and kiss him at the same time, and he instead had taken to kiss, nibble and suck on the sensitive inside of Ludwig’s tighs. “Richard, Richard...”_ A shudder had moved through his body, and he had used his thumb to spread the first few drops of precum over the pink head of his cock before using the remainer as a lubricant for the length. “_Richard, Richard.” Ludwig had repeated his name over and over again as he had fucked into him hard enough for the younger’s eyes to roll back into his head, “R-Richard, oh -”_ His breathing had came in huffs by then, it had not been his intention to delay his rapidly approaching orgasm by pretentious romanticism, a string of curses escaping past his dry lips when the tension in his stomach had intensified yet again._ Ludwig’s hands had been clinging onto the forearm of Richard’s hand that had held him by the throat as he had reached the peak of his orgasm, and his muscles had clenched around Richard’s cock as he had came with another short wail of his name. “Richard!”_ He had came so hard that the force of his orgasm had almost knocked him over, his thighs and hips twitching while he had shot his release over himself as well as onto the table. His chin had sunken down onto his chest as he had tried to catch his breath with gasp so loud that they surely had been heard out on the corridor, his hand continuing to hold only his softening cock as he had perceived nothing but the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his love-struck heart beating as strong as it could have. _He loved him_. There had been no mistaking in the fact that Richard had loved him, and the fact that Ludwig’s love had managed to blend borders with Richard’s being. He had no longer been able to part himself from the younger. The next hot wave that had washed over him had been one of embarassment as he had stood up onto rather unsteady legs to find a cloth that he could have cleaned himself with; his blouse had been ruined, as had his trousers, and a single look onto the table had been enough to know that the piece of paper he had been writing on had not been in a better state as his attire. He had changed into a new set of clothing in utter silence and had crumbled the paper up, throwing it aise, before he had cleaned any signs of his... activity off the table. It had not mattered that the paper had been ruined, he had known all of the notes by heart anyway. He had gotten no word from Ludwig that day.

Richard failed to swallow around the lump in his throat when he, standing in front one of the opened windows of his rooms with his hands held behind his back, came to the realization that an entire week had passed since the premiere, since he had last seen Ludwig. He had lived through the entity of those seven days without a single word, a single note from him, and had been contemplaining for a while then whether or not he should simply set on to continue his journey to the next city. For a while, it had not been worry, disappointment or even anger that dominated his mind and had prevented him from finding sleep at night - it was fear. The fear that Ludwig may have decided to dismiss him as his lover, that his beloved Ludwig had came to the realization that he did not love him after all. Richard closed his eyes as he swallowed hard, failing to hinder the burn in his eyes from increasing. He had not touched his quill in a few days, unable to get even a single note onto paper. If he had truly been dismissed, if... Ludwig no longer desired him and worst of all, if Ludwig no longer loved him back, how should he continue with his music if his muse, his heart had been shattered? To say that he was not incredibly hurt would have been a lie, even if... he was no longer being loved he at least would have expected one last meeting or leastways one last letter from Ludwig. He had gotten neither. Driven close to despair by the ache in his heart and the downright heartbreaking prospect of his position having been filled with another Richard had, a few days ago, set out to give out a request an official audience with Ludwig, though his ardour had been in vain when, a couple of hours later, an announcement had been made that His Majesty was not given for any audiences until further notice. A murmur had went through the crowd in the salon when not only the audiences, but every representative, protocol-regulated arrangements had been canceled as well. Public breakfasts and dinners, masquerade balls, evening concerts and even Ludwig’s walks in the garden, during which overly eager courtiers would have been granted a chance to speak to him, had been suspended without any exception and for an unspecific period of time. Worry had reigned the world of Richard’s thoughts after that - _had something happened? There must had been an incident. Had he fallen sick?_ He had spend days trying to come up with something that he could possibly do; Ludwig’s valet had not been of any help when Richard had addressed him and he had already known that it would have been futile if he would have asked the guards, which had been on their posts on each side of the door that lead to Ludwig’s private rooms, for entrance. If there was one thing that every court, be it Bavarian, Prussian, Austrian and even French had in common, it were the rumors. Courtiers were talking, some more openly than other, about what possibly could have been wrong with the king, and giving how contradictory they were on principle, they had reached from _His Majesty has fallen ill with the pox_ to _His Majesty’s doctor has confirmed it is tuberculosis_ and had went as far as some courtiers stating that they themselves had seen the queen mother leaving her son’s apartment in tears, sobbing about her son’s fate. No matter which one of the rumors Richard had picked, none had managed to easy the worry that stood so boldy in his heart. Could it be that Ludwig had truly fallen ill and that Richard simply had not been informed as he was nothing but a composer and secret lover - that he was doing the younger wrong by assuming that he had been dismissed?

While Richard was left with nothing but uncertainty, he knew that he had to do more than just waste his days with meaningless court talk and hours behind the writing desk in his room, where his bed was so empty and the air around him so silent. He needed to know it his beloved Ludwig had indeed fallen sick and if there was anything that he could do, God knew that he was willing to do everything within his power. The lump in his throat did not go away, no matter how many times he would swallow or tell himself that it all would eventually be alright again. He could not know that, could he? _What if he_... Richard let out a huff of breath as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the window rather abruptly, forcing the endlessly turning gearwheels of his mind to a halt. It would not do any good to either him or Ludwig if he would continue to break his head over the possible ‘what if’s, he did not want to speculate like the other courtiers had done it for days. He needed to know, _his heart_ needed to know. During his week-long stay at the Bavarian court Richard had, unwittingly at first, began to observe how changing of guards in front of the royal apartments had taken place, had noticed how the door would stay unguarded for a good half of a minute before the new couple of guards would begin their shift of standing still and looming like a pair of ancient Roman sculptures. It was too little of a time window to allow him to slip through the entrance door unnoticed - and it was not one of his asipirations to be caught in the act, aside from the consequences, which in itself could be disastrous, but it should grant him just enough time to disappear into the servant’s passage, the door of which was almost unable to distinguish from the gilded wooden panelling on the walls. It was on the evening of the seventh day, that Richard had decided he would risk it, that he could not sleep through another night without knowing how his Isolde was doing. With his newly-found knowledge of the changing of guards taking place at nine sharp, Richard had left his room ten minutes prior, going en route for the wing of the palace that housed Ludwig’s rooms, purposefully ignoring the comments that questioned the reason for his seemingly extended stay at court. _Oh, if they would only know!_ He continued to hold his hands behind his back as he strolled through the corridor, looking a the paintings with an only halfheartedly interest; everything that he was able to think about was Ludwig, his muse, his Isolde, and what his attempt of reaching out for him would bring to light. If he truly was about to be officially dismissed, so to speak, what could he do? Continuing his music... ha, as if he could do that. He came to a halt after he had walked around the last corner of the corridor, at whose end the guards had dutifully stood at their posts, and one look at his pocket watch told Richard that he still had about a minute and a half before he would need to take his chance. Faking yet another great interest, then in the bust that stood on a marble plinth, he waited, certain that three hours in the opera were over with faster than another minute of torturing wait.

His heart summersaulted in his chest when he finally, _finally_ perceived the tale-telling sound of the guards’ feet moving over the wooden floor in lockstep and when a look to his right confirmed that the pair of guards had walked off, he not only strode, but hasted over towards the hidden door of the servant’s passage and nearly threw it open to disappear behind it. He lingered on the spot for a while, trying to listen for any suspicious footsteps over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, and once he was certain that neither a guard nor a servant had been closing in on him, Richard moved over towards the simple wooden door he, instinctively, knew must be the one that would lead to Ludwig’s room. It was not locked, God be praised, but once he had pushed the handle down and had opened the door ajar, he froze again - how could he have been stupid enough to overlook the fact that Ludwig would most likely not be alone? Expecting to be pulled out from the servant’s passage, thrown onto the floor and restrained by the valet or a manservant alike Richard clinged onto the handle of the door, but seconds passed without so much as sped-up footsteps or gasps of shock announcing that he had been spotted and the sigh he let out was one of relief. _Only an idiot could be so lucky_. He opened the door wider, inch for inch, until he was able to peak inside the room - it was empty, so empty that one could have believed it to have been abandoned. No chambermaid or manservant was keeping themselves busy and no valet was sitting at the table Richard, once more instinctively, knew was designated for the king’s valet. A frown had formed on Richard’s forehead before he had even stepped into the spacious room, though it disappeared from one second to another when he, after having closed the door behind him, had seen the figure lying on the bed at the wall farthest from him. _Ludwig_. “Ludwig?” The king of Bavaria was lying on his side, facing the wall and thus away from Richard. He did not react to his name being called, and Richard took one tentative step forwards, expecting to be caught in the act by either the doctor or the queen mother, but once it became clear that the royal apartments were deserted except for Ludwig and him, he knew no stopping. His footsteps seemed to resound strangely loud in the otherwise silent room, there had not even been the ticking of a clock breaking the atmosphere. “Ludwig?”, Richard repeated, the lump back in his throat when he came to stand near the side of Ludwig’s bed and still was not given any reaction whatsoever, and fear in its finest form clenched around his heart when he could not longer been sure whether the younger was even breathing. The expensive brocade comforter was carelessly resting around Ludwig’s calves, so as if he had kicked it down, and he was wrapped in the thin white second blanket, which would usually be covered by the comforter, up to his head, leaving only his disheveled curls to be seen. “Ludwig?”, he tried again as he took another step closer to the bed, his voice having dropped down to a whisper. No reaction, not even a flinch that would have told Richard that he had been merely sleeping and when he got onto the bed to be able to touch his shoulder, he had, for a short moment, feared that his hand would came in touch with a cold body.

It turned out that at least this fear of his had been unfounded, as Ludwig was unmistakably warm, and as Richard leaned a bit over to be able to look at his face, it became clear that he was not asleep either, though the gasp that left the older man was not one of relief. Something was not right. No, there was something terribly, terribly wrong here. “Ludwig, what is going on?”, he asked with his voice still but a whisper, sitting back on his heels to shake Ludwig by the shoulder. “Ludwig!” Richard’s hand shot back from where it had grabbed Ludwig’s shoulder when the younger slowly turned over onto his back to be able to look at him. He had never seen eyes like these before - so dull that one could have thought them to not be those of a person still living, surrounded by an ugly shade of purple, heavy-lidded and sunken far back into their sockets. My God, he looked like he had not slept in a week. _A week_. Richard knew that his mouth stood agape, but he never could have cared enough about it to close it as he reached out to touch Ludwig’s shoulder once more. He would have liked to touch his face instead, but it was the young king’s entire appearance that frightened him so greatly that he did not dare to touch him any more. Ludwig’s face had underwent such dramatic, such heartbreaking changes in the week that they had not seen each other that it robbed Richard’s breath and caused the burning pain in his chest to tenfold. Gone was the boyish appearance, replaced by seemingly life- and colourless skin and where creases of laughter had decorated his face before, nothing but dull features were present then. Ludwig looked like dying man, and it shattered Richard’s heart. It indeed would not have been a surprise if he would find out that his beloved Ludwig had lingered in this state for a week, as his hair was uncombed and greasy and his last shave must had happened as long ago as his last bath. Richard kept a hand on his shoulder as he reached out to graze his fingertips against one of younger man’s pale, unshaven skin. “Oh Isolde, what happened to you?” Although Ludwig had turned his face towards him, his eyes were unfocused and dully moving around and Richard doubted that he had truly perceived his presence. “Can you not hear them?” Ludwig turned his head even more, so as if he needed to look at a spot behind Richard, who whirled around, too, the worry about being caught not yet surmounted, before looking back down at the man he loved. “What?” Ludwig’s dull eyes continued to be glued to a spot and there was no visible sign that he had even heard the other talking, “Can you not hear them?”, he murmured, barely audible. Richard laid the back of his hand against Ludwig’s forehead, fearing that it might have been a fever that was disorienting him, but his hand came in touch with cold instead of hot sweat and by God, it scared him even more. He swallowed hard as he took Ludwig’s face into his hands, “Look at me - Ludwig, look at me!”, and while the younger man did not struggle as Richard turned his face back towards him, his eyes were still looking at something that was hidden from Richard’s gaze. “They are so loud.” Ludwig’s speech was hard to understand, as he murmured without really moving his lips, but ever single word that he forced out of his throat went straight into Richard’s heart. “How can you - can you not hear them, they are so loud...”

_No, no no no no._ His breathing sped up as he tried to keep the tears, which had since risen into his eyes, from falling while he shook Ludwig’s head in his hands. “There is no one here, Ludwig,” he whispered, continuing to shake him with failing hope that it would be enough to pull the younger back to reality. “There is no one here but me and you.” A weak attempt of Ludwig shaking his head had followed, “They are laughing at me - he is laughing at me, there, right there, can you not see it?” Richard closed his eyes, the pain in his chest was burning so brightly that he was not sure how much longer he could endure it without losing the remainder of his composure and he only managed to speak after he had cleared his throat a handful of times. “Who is laughing at you, Ludwig?”, he asked, asking yet again when he was not given an answer. “Tell me, who?” “Paul and my father... they are laughing and they are so loud... can you not hear them?” There was no change in either Ludwig’s voice or his face when he said that, absolutely none, and it was the point from which on Richard was no longer able to keep his tears at a bay. “My Isolde...” In a sick twist of his own opera Richard could already see himself crying over Ludwig’s body, sobbing and pleading for him to wake up. He was sure that he had never been more heartbroken than he was in right then, looking down at what was no more than the broken shell of his beloved Ludwig, a shell that did no longer react to the words and touches his Ludwig had been so eager for just days ago. Richard fought to suppress a sob as he ghosted his thumbs over Ludwig’s cold and clammy skin while the younger continued his incoherent muttering, needing to look away for a second. His head snapped back around, however, when Ludwig’s weak and equally clammy had enclosed one of his wrists to tug his hand away from his face, instead placing it on his throat. “Can you not hear them? End my shameful life and... they will be happy. Everyone will be happy. Do it, do it now...” The younger man’s hand was trembling, the weak hold it had on Richard’s hand seemingly depleted the remainder of energy he had left in his body and before Richard could have stopped himself, he pulled his hand back with a snarl. “What did you say?” He was so hurt, so terrified and so helpless that he was beginning to feel angry while tears of despair were freely making their way down his face and he almost stopped breathing when Ludwig’s eyes, for the first time, came to land on him for the first time that evening. “I tried to do it myself, but they did not allow me die.” Richard’s heart was racing as fast as it only could have done it when Ludwig’s dull eyes stayed on him as a shaking hand reached out for him once more, “Please.” His chin trembled as he opened his mouth to speak, though closing it without bringing anything out and only managing to do so at the second try. “I dare you to tell me that you want to die,” he pressed through his teeth in a snarled whisper, wiping at the wetness on his face with the hand that was no longer cupping Ludwig’s cheek. “Please -”

Before Richard really had the chance to think about what he had been doing, he had pulled his hand back and had smacked Ludwig across the face, hard enough for the younger man’s face to be turned back towards the wall and for the sound to resound in the room. While Ludwig did no more than blink hard for a few times as a red print of Richard’s hand began to form on his unhealthily pale cheek, Richard was shaking where he was kneeling on the bed, holding the back of his hand he had just hit the younger with in front of his mouth. “Tell me one more time that you want to die and I...” His voice failed on him as the first sob escaped him and he reached out to grasp at the front of Ludwig’s nightdress with both hands, “I cannot lose you, can you not see it!” With all the rumors that he had heard and all the horrors that his mind had worked out on its own accord, to be forced to see his Ludwig, his beloved Ludwig in a state like this... Richard never would have imagined it, not even in his worst nightmares. He kept holding onto the younger man’s nightdress even after his voice had died down, shaking him weakly, praying to and pleading for God to stop this. _Give him back to me, take whatever you desire just give him back to me._ Through the blurriness of his vision Richard, after what very well could have been an eternity, then saw how Ludwig’s head slowly turned again and how the younger man, for the first time, really parted his lips. “T-Tristan?” Another choked sob escaped Richard’s throat as he let go of Ludwig’s nightdress to take his face into his hands again, “Ludwig, oh thank God.” Ludwig’s face was still drained of all color and cold as if his heart had long stopped beating, except for the cheek that Richard had hit, which was quite hot to the touch, but the young king’s eyes seemed as if at least some of their past light had returned into them. “I apologize for hitting you, oh Ludwig...” He had to smile despite the tears that were running freely down his face, using his thumbs to stroke Ludwig’s skin over his cheekbones; Richard was no medic, far from it, and he yet was able to see and _feel_ how weak the other was. Ludwig was blinking heavily, apparently using his minimal strength to keep his gaze fixed on Richard when he muttered, “Tristan...”, leaning his sore cheek into the palm that was cupping it as if he did not register the pain. “I am here now, my Isolde, I am here now.” With his mind a bit cleared then, Richard could take in the other, worrysome signs of Ludwig’s condition. The nightdress was sticking to his chest, almost transparent from the sweat that had soaked into it and guessing by the way Ludwig’s lips were dry and bloodied it must had been a while since they had last gotten in touch with water. “When was the last time that you drank or ate?”, he thus asked, though not really surprised when he was not given an answer by his still only muttering lover, and he kept one hand on Ludwig’s face as he reached out for the pair of discarded pillows beside them. “Are you able to lift your head for your Tristan, hm?” Richard, in the end, had needed to raise his long torso up with one and slip the pillow underneath it with his other arm in order to get him to sit up; Ludwig had not an ounce of strength left in him and he had no doubt that whatever _this_ was must have been going on for days already.

Richard almost would have called out for a manservant to hurry and bring him something to drink as fast as possible, and he would have done it if his eyes would not have fallen upon the table in the far back of the room, which had been set up with what looked to be a pitcher of water and a serving pan What said pain contained he could not tell as its lid had not been removed, and he hasted a quick kiss onto the back of Ludwig’s hand before he climbed off the bed and hurried over to the table to first fill a glass up to the rim with water and then check what kind of food had been served. The familiar smell reached him before he had even lifted the lid off completely - _Zwetschgenröster_. He knew that it was Ludwig’s favorite, and a smile ghosted over his face as he took the porcelain plate decorated with Ludwig’s coat of arms and loaded two ladle-full of it onto it. Richard considered the _Kaiserschmarrn_ for a moment, but decided that he would be exceptionally lucky if Ludwig would eat the fruits. Everything else would be too heavy for his stomach. Carrying the plate in one and the glass in his other hand he made his way back to the bed, where his beloved Ludwig was reasting on top the stack of pillows with his eyes barely open. “Stay awake,” he urged him with a gentle voice, setting the plate down beside him to stroke Ludwig’s messy curls from his forehead. “Here, drink this.” Richard pressed his lips together when Ludwig let out a low whine and tried to turn his head away. “Please, Ludwig, drink. You need it. “I...” “If not for you then... drink it for me. I beg you,” he whispered, his voice rough from the tears that he had shed and the younger, to his immense relief, ceased on his struggle and partened his dry lips, allowing for Richard to hold the rim of the glass to his lips and for the water to flow into his mouth. The hand in his hair continued to stroke it, not caring that it had not been washed in a week, and his dutiful swallowing was praised with an entire array of whispers from Richard. “How good you are, my Isolde. So good for your Tristan.” While he much rather would not have liked to see it, spotting the tears that then stood in Ludwig’s eyes was rather relieving for Richard, he had not lost him, for it meant that he was still there, that there was still his Ludwig, his Isolde inside of his momentarily broken mind. Ludwig drank until the glass was empty, and Richard rewarded him with a kiss to his cheek before he put the empty glass down onto the nightstand. “Do you think that you will be able to eat at least a bit, my love?”, the older man asked with a low and gentle voice as he rested the plate in his left palm, taking the spoon into his other hand. Ludwig did not answer and neither did he nod, but albeit heavy-lidded from exhaustion, his eyes stayed fixed on him and it was as much as Richard could have asked for in that moment. He spoon fed him one small spoon-full after another, he even quartered the plums before he loaded them onto the spoon, one piece at a time and as he could not possibly tell when Ludwig had last eaten, he was utterly thankful for every bit that he ate and thus did not complain when the younger refused to go eat more than a half of the portion.

He moved on his knees to cast the plate aside onto the nightstand, but was stopped by Ludwig’s weak hands, who held onto his upper arm. “Do not leave me,” the younger breathed, his head having sank back down onto the pillows. “Do not leave me...” Richard clicked his tongue, “I will not leave you, my Isolde. Allow me to put the plate down and I will be right back at your side.” The younger man’s hands only reluctantly loosened their hold from which Richard easily could have slipped his arm free, and it indeed took him no longer than a few seconds until he was back at Ludwig’s side. While it was obvious that Ludwig must have spend days on end in bed, he was as exhausted as one who had not seen his bed in just as long and Richard felt dread taking charge of his heart when he wondered whether or not he had been hearing and seeing those... _ghosts_ the entire time. Oh, if he only would have known sooner how badly he was suffering. There were glistering streaks of silent tears on the young king’s face and while Richard would have liked nothing more than to be able to soothe them with his words, he knew that any attempt of him doing so would be in vain. So he began to hum a random passage from the second act of his most recent opera, after whose premiere he and Ludwig had sealed their reunion in the conductor’s room as he just sat there for a few moments, holding Ludwig’s right hand in both of his. He looked up when Ludwig had sighed, wearily and longingly in a way that caused a shiver to run down Richard’s back, the only one he had heard sighing like this before had been his mother, mere hours before she had closed her eyes for the last time. “_Gib Vergessen, dass ich lebe_,” Ludwig sighed then after, his eyes tiredly searching the ceiling and an, until then, unknown fear clamped its invisible hand around Richard’s throat, robbing him of his breath and making him wish that he never would have written those words. He let go of Ludwig’s hand, for his own were trembling and he did not want to make it known, but Ludwig reached out for him within a split second. “Do not leave me, Richard.” His breath hitched as he opened his mouth to answer, “It is you who,” Richard needed to clear his throat. “Do not leave me, Ludwig. I would not survive it if you were to leave me.” His eyebrows pulled together when he noticed that Ludwig was trembling. “Are you cold?”, he thus asked, despite already knowing the answer before the younger man had even shaken his head in a silent “No”. The nightdress was still glued to his skin and despite the warm temperatures, the risk of the weakened man wearing it were too high for Richard’s liking. It could easily cause Ludwig to catch a cold, and with his body as strained as it was... “Will you allow me to take it off? I promise that you will be much more comfortable then, my Isolde.” A weak nod was enough of an answer, and while Ludwig tried to help as good as he could by lifting his hips, it was Richard who had to make the biggest effort in order to get the nightdress off.

It was not how he had imagined him freeing Ludwig of his nightdress, he thought to himself as he helped the younger to first pull his right, then his left arm out of the long sleeves before he opened the buttons and pulled it over his head in one quick motion, discarding it onto the floor beside the bed. Richard gently stroked Ludwig’s face as he reached for the blanket that his lover had been covered with before, and it was only then that he noticed the thick, white bandage the had been wrapped around Ludwig’s left forearm. The thick padding on top suggested that the wound, which it was covering, was located on the outside of the his arm, and Richard did not miss the strangled gasp that Ludwig let out when he took took a closer look at it. “Oh Isolde, what happened?” Ludwig’s eyelashes fluttered as he swallowed hard. “Knife,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut when he heard the other’s sharp intake of breath. Richard was sure that he had been able to hear the shards of his broken heart falling down into the pit of his stomach, and he hurried to take Ludwig’s face into his hand. He was so precious, so utterly precious and special and lovable and Richard hated himself for not knowing how he could possibly let him know. “Do you think that Tristan would have accepted Isolde hurting herself?” Ludwig’s tired eyes had widened for a second before their lids grew too heavy again, “It - It would have pained him...” A short-lived smile showed in the older man’s features, “That is correct, my love. And do you understand when I tell you that it hurts me no less when you do it?” He wiped the tear that left a corner of Ludwig’s eyes away as soon as it did and leaned over to kiss his forehead, his lips lingering, before he kissed his cheek and finally captured his lips. It was far from a heated kiss, a gesture of comfort more than anything else. “Promise me that you will not do it again,” Richard whispered against Ludwig’s lips, kissing a corner of his mouth as if he needed to convince him to say it. “Ludwig, my Isole, I need you to promise it.” “I... cannot.” There were tears in his eyes as well when he sat back onto his heels, Ludwig’s face still in his hands. “You have done it before.” The younger man nodded, just once, and casted his gaze downwards, obviously ashamed of his weakness being seen by Richard. “Oh, my love.” Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut when Richard pulled his hands back, his body trembling from the frightful prospect that he might have pushed him away and he was about to roll onto his side to resume staring at the wall, ignoring the mocking laughters apparently only he was able to hear, when Richard’s hand came to rest on his shoulder again. “No, you shall not be allowed to go back to that.” “Richard...” The older man had merely moved away to be able to take off his waistcoat and kick off his shoes, returning to Ludwig’s side. “I apologize for asking, Isolde, but... your valet and -” “I dismissed them all.” Richard did not say another thing before he pulled one of the pillows out from underneath Ludwig’s head to rest his own on it as he laid down beside him. “You will stay?” He nodded, too emotional to really speak, and Ludwig hurried to nestle against him, abandoning the pillow to prop his head on Richard’s chest instead. “Do not, it is dirty,” the king of Bavaria murmured when he felt the other’s fingers in his hair, but Richard silenced him with a gentle but determined “Hush”.

The sun had since began its last phase of setting, bathing the interior of the room with a dark and soft orange light and even though Ludwig’s hair was greasy, his face unshaven and his eyes decorated with dark bags underneath them, Richard still thought him to be uttermostly beautiful as he rested with half of his body propped onto him. “_Mein, Tristan mein_,” Ludwig whispered, Richard’s touches and the sound of his heart beating in his chest having soothed him enough that he was ready to give in to his exhausted body’s desire of a dreamless sleep, his fingers absentmindedly fumbling with the fabric of Richard’s blouse. “_Mein, Isolde mein_,” Richard answered with an equally low voice, wrapping his arm a bit tighter around his lover. “_Mein und dein, ewig, ewig ein_.” “_Ewig ein_,” came a muttered sigh. “I love you, Tristan.” “And Tristan will always continue to love his Isolde. Do not forget it.” Ludwig slipped into the calm state of sleep soon after, lulled into it by Richard’s touches and the composer’s soft humming, and Richard was left to the world of his thoughts. It was still a wonder just how he grew to love Ludwig, the vulnerable but so lovable young man on the Bavarian throne, and even more importantly, what he did to deserve the love that Ludwig was gifting him with.

_Fin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Himmelhöchstes  
Weltentrücken!  
Mein! Tristan mein!  
Mein und dein!  
Ewig, ewig ein!  
Himmelhöchstes  
Weltentrücken!  
Mein! Isolde mein!  
Mein und dein!  
Ewig, ewig ein!_
> 
> \- Richard Wagner, "Tristan und Isolde".


End file.
